I know, given my line of work, that sentimentality can be a dangerous liability, but it was different with Marsha.

We first met in the first class lounge at LAX while we were both waiting for our flight to Hong Kong. She was charming,
devastatingly beautiful and by the time our flight landed seduced.

We both loved to travel, me due to my line of work, Marsha merely because she’s wealthy and liked to travel. Over the
coming months we’d happily shared hotel beds in more than a dozen countries. Still, I knew from the beginning it couldn’t last.

We’d agreed to meet in London, at one of our favorite hotels overlooking the Thames. Knowing that her flight would land
several hours before mine, I’d thoughtfully arranged for Marsha to find a large bouquet of roses and a bottle of her favorite
champagne on ice in our penthouse suite when she arrived.

I found her standing out on the balcony, she was magnificent to behold. Without a word I went to her. Marsha’s moist lips
tasted of champagne and strawberries. Even through the jacket of my suit I could feel the aroused firmness of her nipples
pressing against my chest, the scent of her expensive perfume filling my senses as we embraced.

Holding her in my arms she smiles as I lightly ran my fingertips along the soft fullness of her lips. In her lovely blue
eyes that unmistakable look of impassioned lust. In that timeless moment I’m tempted to say I loved her.

I felt Marsha suddenly stiffen in my arms as the faint hiss of silencer made a whisper of the gunshot. I hold her close
until she’s gone. I’ll cash her husband’s check in the morning...